


Silently, Breaking

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-29
Updated: 2009-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during S2/S3 timeline - post Ben's 'Roid Rage storyline ; Michael has a minor problem. Brian arrives to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silently, Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> This is a redux response to the WORD : GAME for the words - tainted & official...

 

Brian could tell something was bothering Michael the very second he answered his cell phone. A certain poutiness and "whatever"-tude in his vocal tone. 

_Jesus..._ was Ben still abusing? _Christ! what a dumb motherfucker!_

The last time he even had a thought about the Professor was the confrontation at the gym in the locker room. Brian didn't even want to know what Michael did to "handle" the situation. 

Then, something struck him while talking to Michael and hanging up after the call was over... _What If, huh?_

 ** _What if..._** _when Michael confronted Ben, he flipped out and brought a severe beating down on Michael? Why not?_ It's what Jack Kinney always did. 

Brian had exaggerated his wound to regain Michael's attention. His M.O. was milking the injury for Michael's benefit. But as often had been the case with Jack, Brian joked or downplayed the pain. Days later, he could feel the debilitating trauma. 

That's what was happening now. His back and shoulder hurt like a _sonofabitch_. At one point, his arm had locked up on him and spasmed with delayed agony during work hours. He could blow it off, taking Tylenol and some solo-massaging of his biceps and forearm. From experience, he had to let it course through his body or else he'd suffer tremendously later on. Brian may have over-dramatized the moment with Michael, desiring Michael to keep his boyfriend away, but the pain was _always_ real--though the mark faded and the bruising vanished. 

He told Cynthia he was taking a long lunch with no real timeframe. He shocked himself by making it to Michael's apartment in record time. He considered knocking, but Michael might refuse to answer the door. He used his own key to let himself in. Well... he didn't hear much of _anything_ , not even sounds of Michael elsewhere in the tiny apartment. He quickly glanced at the time, wondering if Ben came home for lunch. Brian remained on slight "alert", his body tense. 

He went to the fridge, glancing inside as he picked up two bottles; one beer, one juice-- _to give Michael the option of either_. He knocked on the stained glass door, not bothering to wait for the greeting as he turned the knob. He found the room in its usual "shambles"; clothes on the floor, different shoes kicked off in places, and the tops of the dressers and two nightstand littered in clutter. Brian always felt oddly comforted by the chaos. Michael had been the same way at fourteen. The moment Michael's bedroom was spotless and pristine, he would know something was wrong. 

Stepping over dirty-- _or clean?_ \--clothes, Brian reached the bed and sat down, making sure to balance and bounce. He butted against the back of the bent knees and Michael's backside. He leaned an elbow on the hip, beneath the covers. "Okay--I'm here." 

"Why?" 

"What kind of a best friend would I be if I let you fester on your day off?" 

"I'm not 'festering'." 

"Well, what _are_ you doing?" 

"I'm trying to calm down." 

"From _what_?" 

"From _this_..." Michael proceeded to shove down the top comforter, twisting a little onto his back, showing what was beginning to spread over his body. 

_**Hives**_... red blotches of skin with no bumps, but they went from the rounds of his cheeks on down his throat, over his chest, and along certain areas of his arms. 

" ** _Jesus Christ Mikey?!_** " Brian tried not to look disgusted or laugh, because it only showed how nervous Michael could be. Even when he was confident in standing up for himself. "No bumps?" 

"No. No bumps." Michael sighed heavily, turning fully onto his back. "Just that dumb inner _fear_ of mine, gettings me all worked up. One of the banes of having pale skin and being an ex-introverted, shy child." 

"What did you _do_?" 

"Nothing." 

"Liar." 

"Okay--none of your business. Wait--actually, you washed your hands of this--of--" Michael almost said "me", but stopped himself. "--it'll go away by tonight." 

"Well... must've been a doozy. The last time I saw you this bad was--" 

"... Jack..." 

"And if I remember correctly, you stood up to him. For _me_ \--well, for _us_. And then days later, in gym class, I noticed they were all over your back." 

"I spent the next two periods in the nurse's office--in front of a circulating fan. I got to drink cold sodas and chomp on ice." 

"What did your mom do when you got these at home?" 

"Her makeup kit--the cold cream... or a, uh, cooling lotion. I couldn't have much on me, in those days, because of my sensitive skin and allergies." 

"So why the fuck are you under layers of blankets, getting more hot and bothered?" 

"... 'cuz..." 

"Uhm... yeah, well-- _here_." Brian handed him the cold juice. "No beer for you. Alcohol will only make you go flush." He bounced off the mattress, starting to take off his suit jacket, deciding to set everything he took off outside the bedroom. He kicked off his shoes, then strolled over to Emmett's bedroom. He softly knocked with a knuckle-- _just in case_ \--then moved to the glamorized vanity/makeup mirror. Pulling out his wallet, Brian set down a twenty and took the last of Emmett's facial cream. It wasn't Summer, but Brian knew of an oscillating fan stored in a closet near the front door. Once he had everything, he moved back into the bedroom, tossing everything on the bed. 

"Who are you trying to be-- _Greta Garbo_?" Brian opened the outer curtains wider to let in more sunlight, then cracked the tiny windows a bit. 

"Fuck you, Kinney." 

"Not if I fuck you first, Novotny." 

They shared a small glance and a soft chuckle. Neither man knowing they both had swallowed hard from the idea of any type of "fucking"-- _teasing or real_ \--between them. 

Michael finally crawled out from under the layers of covers, keeping the cold cream and fan in his arms. He pushed off the linens, leaving his mattress bare with one sheet. 

Brian was able to now see that Michael had taken off all clothes--except for underwear and pair of tight Khaki shorts. The lower half of his body was gorgeously pale skin, covered in soft dark black hairs, while the upper portion looked as if Michael had gone a few rounds in poison ivy. Brian went to unplug Michael's lamp, on the low-n-long dresser, to find space for the fan. 

"Here? Or closer?" 

"Oh, I have TV trays in the kitchen, but you have to find room on the floor." Michael made a face as he sat down on the bed. "Sorry." 

"For _what_?" 

"Uhm--you know-- _everything_ , and then some." 

"Whoa..." Brian put up a hand to ward off Michael's near-meltdown of pitiful martyrdom. "... part of this 'hives' action must be _heavy guilt_. What _else_?" 

"Oh, the usual Novotny fare." Michael sighed heavily, scratching at the only "hives-free" place on his face, his forehead. "I'm completely oblivious to things right in front of me, until someone gets hurt." 

"Please--Ben is _nothing_ like Jack." 

"He still brought harm to you. That never flies with me." 

"I can take care of myself. _You_ on the other hand..." 

"You really don't have to stay and do _this_." Michael was trying to give Brian an easy out. "The _kick in the ass_ was what I needed." 

"Was it bad for you?" Brian couldn't even fathom a world of hurt for Michael with Ben, like it had been for him with Jack. 

"I got _my message_ across." 

"Well, that's good." 

"Is it? 'Cuz I _feel_ like an idiot." 

"Well, ** _I_** don't think you are. Who cares about what others think?" Brian plugged in the fan, pulling the pin to keep it directed on where Michael sat. "Is this hitting you?" When he looked up, Brian could tell by the relief on Michael's face--the tiny inky-black curls and waves blowing back on his head. 

"... _ahhh_..." Michael breathed in and out through his nostrils, letting his arms sit out from his body. "--this is _heaven_." 

Brian kicked through piles of clothing to take the cold cream from Michael's weakening grasp. "Wanna do this for yourself or--?" 

Michael looked pleased with the cool air, his mind going elsewhere. "--oh, uh... uhm..." He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "--you can start on my back--the areas I _can't_ reach or see." 

Brian nodded his head, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. The way Michael had his chin lifted and eyes closed made him look like he wanted a kiss. Brian was tempted to respond but took a seat beside Michael, hefting himself onto the bed to curl around Michael's back. 

The red blotches went down into the elastic waistband of the shorts and briefs. "--uh, Michael..." Brian wasn't certain Michael knew how far down the hives had gone. 

"--huh?" 

"Have you checked your backside?" 

"Uh, no... just my front, so I assumed my ass was fine." Michael regretted the words once he uttered them. He even started the eye-rolling early. 

"Yes, you do have a very _fine_ ass, but some of these hives go down further--back here." Brian trailed a lone index finger from the dip of the lumbar spine to the slight exposure of the tailbone, where it disappeared under the elastic band. 

Michael had sense enough to fidget, thinking Brian would actually "go there", without his permission. " ** _Fuck!_** " 

"Does it help to cover them _**all**_? Could we, like, skip a few?" Brian wasn't refusing; he didn't want to make Michael feel more uncomfortable than he already was becoming. 

"I don't know. I don't remember Ma ever needing to cover _that_ area." Maybe she had and Michael simply blocked it out, traumatized enough being covered in "hives", knowing would then deliver one colossal third-degree on him, wanting to know "why?". 

"You want to take the chance?" 

"Well... no. But that just means I have to be _completely_ naked." 

"I'm okay, if you're okay." Brian thought of a sudden idea. "Do you still have a jock strap or a, uh... thong?" He scratched at his face absently--the thought of Michael in anything skimpy and revealing was too much to take. Especially with the heightened emotional state between them right now. 

There was always an alternating quality during these times. In the past, Jack would have reigned down heavy on Brian and then Michael would have taken Brian in and kept him warm, safe and protected. Countless of times, Brian would do much the same for Michael. In times of need and pain, one of them picking the other up off their feet and tending to their every need. Brian knew Michael was way ahead of him-- _in the "being there for his best friend" department_ \--so it would take years for him to make things even. He knew Michael didn't care, but Brian did; he always gave paybacks, never wanting to owe anything to anyone. Michael was different, though. 

"Yeah... I think I do." Michael went to the low dresser, finding the drawer where his underwear and bathing suits were kept. 

"Sure they didn't commit suicide and jump out on the floor with the rest of your clothes?" 

"Ha-ha... funny man. " Michael had something in his hand balled into his fist. "I'll be right back." 

Brian sighed, falling onto the bed with an arm over his face. God-- _if only_. Thank God the fan was blowing on him, because if Michael came out in barely any underwear, Brian knew his body would react and possibly overheat. 

"Okay-- _don't laugh_. Emmett got these for me that _one_ Halloween." Michael had V-ed his hands over the groin area, fingers haphazardly playing along the low-laying elastic band about his trim hips. 

Brian swung his legs off the bed, staring with a hard gaze and a strong swallow of his throat. "Oh, yeah--some kind of Skimpy-Costume-Party Emmett held. Didn't you have a cape to go with this?" 

Michael was already embarrassed enough--the extremely tiny swim trunks only added more of an incentive to tell Brian to leave. He held out his hand, palm up. "Give me the cream. I'll do it myself." He was expecting the laughter to follow shortly. 

"No. Turn Around." Brian held the jar away from Michael, keeping it out of his reach. "You'll never be able to get your back and that _fine_ ass." 

Crossing his arms bashfully over his bare chest, Michael did as Brian suggested. " _Just_ the skin. Don't do anything _funny_ back there." 

When Michael faced him-- _ass first_ \--it wasn't any better than looking at the front. The thong fit perfectly down the crack, spreading cheeks. "-- _dear god_." Brian groaned under his breath. Had Michael started working out more, because the ample-ness looked a little more solid-- _muscles flexing_ \--not an ounce of loose flesh jiggled. 

Michael situated his frame to stand in front of the fan, letting his arms fall to his sides, as Brian started dabbing globs of cream over his bottom and lower back. "Don't rub it in too much..." _Christ_... not again. 

Michael was making this way-too easy for Brian. "--why? 'cuz you might have to 'rub one out'?" 

"No, perv--the thicker the cream..." _Shit!_ Michael decided to stop speaking altogether. "--never mind." 

Brian deeply chuckled, grabbing Michael's hips to bring him closer. "Mind telling me why _Bruckner_ isn't doing this?" He decided changing the subject might steer their minds elsewhere. 

"He's, uh... probably at work." 

"Yeah... _probably_." 

"He's not--he said he'd stopped using. Well, he's going to try to stop the steroid use." 

"Is he now? So you put your foot down?" 

"Uh, yeah... pretty much put the fear of God in him." 

"Did you? Really?" Two dark honey brown eyebrows rose with interest. "So--you kicked him out?" 

"For a little bit. He can return when he chooses to be clean and take us seriously." 

"You don't think he's _serious_ \-- _about you_?" 

"No. His focus has been fairly one-sided." 

"Tell me you didn't kick him out _because of me_." 

"Nah... I barely mentioned the, uh... incident." Michael looked over his shoulder and down into Brian's face. He hadn't needed to say much to Ben about the controntation with Brian in the locker room; there had been enough "ammunition" to scare Ben into rethinking his path. "How are _you--really_?" 

"Oh, I'll live... but I'll have to grow accustomed to being forever marred." 

"... please..." Michael closed his eyes and softly inhaled, then exhaled, wondering why the men in his life continued to think him still so naïve and weak. "--stop lying to me." 

"I'm not." Brian moved to work on Michael's shoulder and arm. Michael was staring a bit more intently since he was closer. "--bruise is gone... there's still a faint mark there." That was all Brian was willing to share, for now. 

That was fine. Michael could fill in the rest. "--and thought you'd over-dramatize the injury. Even now your shoulder is aching." 

"... _whatever_..." 

"No. Not what--" Michael swiveled around to give Brian his other arm. Once that was done all that was left was face and chest. "I _know_ you. You hide too much from me." He bowed his head. "I never meant for you to get hurt in all this." 

Brian yanked Michael to spin and face him. Michael lost a little of his balance, needing something to grab onto to steady himself. What Michael latched onto was Brian's outer thighs. "I told you... this isn't like Jack." 

"Oh? It isn't?" 

"You can't even _compare_ the two." 

"That's _not_ what I'm comparing." 

Hazel eyes flashed to dark brown as the dawning of the real comparison surfaced. 

"Lift." Brian silently worked on neck and throat to get under the chin. "You're responsible for no one but yourself." 

"I made him angry, a little. I made them _both_ \--and _both times you got_ \--" Michael crossed his arms, wanting to look away in self-disgust. 

"You did _nothing_ , Michael." Brian grabbed Michael's chin to keep him looking straight ahead. "To _either_ of them. With Jack, I just got fed up and tired, knowing it would never end. So... I fought back, not with much success." 

"I still felt guilty, even if my standing up to Jack spurned you on." Michael tilted his head, a hand reaching out to touch Brian. "I try to protect and you still manage to get hurt." 

_That tone, the touching_ \-- _Michael almost naked_ \--it was Brian's near undoing. He quickly stood, exhaling on a soft groan, dipping below to use his nose and face to make Michael lift his chin. Once the head raised, Brian leaned in to take the lips. He only meant to kiss quickly, pulling back with a smile. Michael let out a sound of _such_ ache, then fisted both hands into the material of Brian's shirt. Brian couldn't hold or yank Michael close with the cold cream caked on him. He had to draw away or faint. 

Brian leaned his brow on Michael's forehead. " _Stop_ apologizing. You have no reason to feel guilty _now_ \-- _or before_." 

Michael was breathing heavily, his hands loosening on the shirt to move up Brian's body. There was a light shove. "--move back." Brian did, the back of his legs hitting the bed frame. There was a slight move to push on the shoulder. "--sit." Brian followed orders, chin tilted upward as Michael stared down at him. 

Now, they were both having difficulty breathing. The last areas to cover with cold cream were Michael's cheeks, upper lip and chin. For _this_ , Michael sank to his knees on the floor between Brian's thighs as he assumed a position of easy submission. Brian's hands were slightly trembling as he coated the last portions of Michael's hives. His eyes darted over the familiar features, feeling his body become aroused by Michael on his knees as if he could just-- He started using both hands, the cream making the skin on their bodies extra slippery. He lost the cold cream jar, then just decided to spread what cream was already on them more thinly on the facial area. Brian liked hearing the little noises and sighs of pleasure Michael was releasing. He could imagine they were _for him_ and not _for the relief of the hives disappearing_. 

"Move." Brian requested Michael shift his position on the floor, so he could slide off the mattress and sit down on the carpet. He also might have a fighting chance in locating the missing jar. Now he was level with Michael. As he cleared a space for himself to sit, he felt something pinch his skin... " ** _Ow-ch!_** " 

"What?" 

"Do you have hidden bear traps under these clothes?" 

Michael was lightly chuckling as he watched Brian raise his hand to look at the possible "injury". He went to remove the collection of clothes to find something he wasn't expecting. "... _**oh, dear god**_..." Michael almost freaked, eyes going wider. He stopped the chuckles to look directly at Brian, snatching his wrist. "Are you bleeding?" 

"Uhm... I don't kno--" 

"Did it break skin?" 

"What? I'm not too sure--my skin is oily with cold cream." 

Michael took a random sock to pick up what was on the floor then yanked on Brian's forearm. "Come on-- ** _we need to wash your hands!_** " 

Brian was startled by Michael's frantic reaction, like he had been bitten by a snake and deadly venom was flowing through his body. "Okay, okay-- ** _stop dragging me!_** I can wash my hands on my own. I have since I was a toddler." 

They made it into the bathroom, Brian grabbing soap and Michael twisting on scalding hot water. Brian frowned, because Michael looked way-more concerned than he should be. Brian scrubbed his hands as thoroughly as he could with an extra pair of eyes watching him closely. 

Brian turned off the faucet knobs, flicking his wet fingers to let them drip dry in the air. "Okay... **_mind telling me what the hell this is?!_** " 

Michael opened his hand. Laying on a black cotton sock was a needle--a small casing inside an injectable carpuject. He knew Brian was aware of what he was looking at, but he felt there needed to be a quick explanation. "--uh, uhm--this is Ben's--the steroids. He must've--I thought--. He swore--" Michael shook his head sadly, his mouth puckering with frustration. "--he told me he only did it _here in the bathroom_ so he could throw away the syringes. What worries me is--" 

Brian slowly nodded, staring at the tiny object. He now _fully_ understood. "... it could be **tainted**..." 

Wide hazel eyes met wide brown ones--neither of them knowing what to do or say. This latent fear always in the back of their minds. First with Uncle Vic and now with Ben. They always knew the fear was more prominent for Michael as close as he was to Ben. But the idea of Brian being affected never crossed their minds. To know it had turned into a _possibility_ frightened both of them. 

As if in slow motion, Brian flipped the top of his hand over... 

"Where?" 

Brian showed the side of his right hand, along the pinky. "Feels like more near the heel, almost to the wrist." He averted his head, not able to look for himself. 

Michael threw out the sock and needle, then moved to Brian's side so he could manipulate the skin, push and pinch to see if blood seeped out. _None did._ Michael released the tension in his body, but Brian had to sit down on the toilet lid. Michael knew of Brian's dislike of needles--not a true fear, but a natural phobia from too much experience in hospital settings. He helped Brian sit, then noticed his face turning from shades of light pink to white. That's when he made Brian lean over to stick his head between his legs, hand cupped over the back of his nape. 

Michael heard the gasps for air, a single breath taken. When Brian came back up, Michael took a seat on the lap, his left arm circling around Brian's shoulders to tuck him close. "--you're fine--no blood. Thankfully, it did break the skin layer. Skin is pretty tough, anyway." He felt Brian's arms wrap around him. "Though I still think we should get some blood drawn. Just to be on the safe side." 

Brian was in a slight state of shock, nodding his head in agreement. "Didn't that nurse, taking care of Vic, have _something like this_ happen?" 

"Yeah... although I'm sure her injury drew blood." 

"Hmm... I wonder where she is now." 

"Well... _this is it_." Michael's tone sounded as if he was giving up and giving in. 

With everything going on, Brian was confused. "What do you mean?" 

"What?" 

"... my **'** **official** **'** breaking point." 

"What are you saying?" 

"That's _twice_ now." Michael brought up his other arm, placing it to rest on Brian's shoulder, threading his fingers. "Ben's inadvertently harmed you without thinking. That's where I draw the line. ** _No one_** messes with _my_ best friend on _my_ watch." He rested his cheek on top of Brian's head. 

Both Michael and Brian closed their eyes, both realizing that they would have to take showers because now Brian was covered in cream, as well. And Michael wasn't really presentable to the public, yet. 

"Are you _sure_?" 

"Yes. I've never been more sure." Even Michael's voice held a certain strong and steady confidence, no more wishy-washy acceptance of whatever came his way. 

Even through the heavy emotional state of the moment, Brian couldn't help the tiny smile of happiness and relief that passed over his features and throughout his system. 

**~*~THE END**

( **maybe... ;O)...** )


End file.
